


Days Gone By

by rudennotgingr



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Angst, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-29
Updated: 2013-09-29
Packaged: 2017-12-27 23:58:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/985181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rudennotgingr/pseuds/rudennotgingr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor wakes up in an unfamiliar looking TARDIS, with a new body. He remembers events and people from a regeneration he doesn't remember having.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Days Gone By

**Author's Note:**

> This is my explanation for Seasons 5-7, which I'm not too fond of. Just FYI.

He bolted upright at the waist, fingers frantically tracing unfamiliar lines and patterns on an unfamiliar face. He ran hands through short wiry curls. He tried to remember the last time he touched curls. The hair had been longer then. 

Glancing down at his brown pinstriped clad legs, he pushed himself to his feet. Pinstripes? But...a hand flew to his throat. A tie. A long brown with blue swirls tie. No bow-tie? 

He ran his hands over the rest of his body, taking inventory. The pants were a little longer, meaning he had gotten a little shorter. Rips and burn marks dotted his suit. Burns? He remembered the violent flash of gold as he gave in to the regeneration process, pain overwhelming his body and his hearts. The TARDIS. The TARDIS caught fire, almost exploded really. 

He shook his head, he'd have to be more careful next time. Another emotional regeneration like that and he was likely to explode his beautiful ship the right way, or wrong depending on how you looked at it. No matter. It wouldn't happen because she...no. His hearts clenched painfully and he had a near overwhelming urge to cry out with various profanities. No good would come from this train of thought.

He looked around. The ship had redecorated. Dim blue light seemed to pour out of everywhere and nowhere all at once. The time rotor shone a bright pale green, with a hint of blue coming through. Giant cogs with various circular Gallifreyan symbols rotated directly above the time rotor. He didn't care to find out what they said.

The console room was cold and metallic. Polished silver metal was everywhere. It made the room harsh and uninviting. Even the leather jump seat looked off putting. It was a far cry from the comforting coral interior he was used to. For that, he sent a mental note of thanks to his time ship, who hummed appreciatively in response. While he would miss the old interior, it reminded him too much of _her_. His hearts squeezed painfully at the thought. Stop.

He approached the console, lightly grazing the new levers and buttons, brow furrowed in concentration. Images of another console room flooded his mind. One that was bronze and glass, bathed in soft yellow light. The details were fuzzy, but he knew that set up hadn’t been in any of his past ten regenerations.

Ten? Or was it eleven? More images bombarded his brain. He gripped onto the edge of the console as he doubled over at the sudden onslaught of information. 

A redhead, fiery and Scottish. Cracks in time. A man, a roman soldier. No, not a roman. Well, not really. Daleks. A race called the Silence. Bow-ties. Demons Run. A woman with curls that you could hide entire worlds in. A fez. Weeping angels. An astronaut. A brunette, with many lives but the same face. The Great Intelligence. Spoilers.

What was happening? He rubbed his forehead as his synapses calmed. This was his eleventh body. Wasn't it?

He needed a mirror. The suit told him that he had previously been in his tenth body. But his mind was sending him mixed signals.

A mirror appeared next to his hand. Thanking the TARDIS once again, he picked it up.

His hair was silver, more wavy than actual curls. Just as he suspected, he had lines on his face. Honest to goodness wrinkles. Not many mind you. Enough to look seasoned, yet still handsome. His eyes were blue-green in the light from the time rotor. He had a feeling they would switch between the two colors, and possibly sometimes grey. Maybe it would link to changes in his mood.

One thing was certain. He looked more his age now. It had been awhile since he had had grey hair and wrinkles. Laugh lines, he told himself. He scoffed. There hadn't been much to laugh at lately. 

He placed the mirror back on the console, reflexively shutting his eyes, as if that would keep out his memories of the last body to wear this suit.

Floppy dark hair. Green eyes. Another young face. Gangly and somewhat clumsy. 

That wasn't his tenth body. That was...he didn't know what that was. It was like a dream, but felt so real.

"What the fuckity fuck is going on?" 

His shout echoed throughout the room and bounced down the branching halls. That was new. The urge to say fuck had been slowly building since he had regained consciousness. The outburst had been like a balm to his frenzied thoughts. Would that be his new commonly used phrase? Fuck? He had to admit he like it.

Another flash. The TARDIS on fire. Yells of geronimo. The brunette jumping into his time stream. A bearded face he didn't recognize, claiming to be the Doctor...but not.

"FUCK! What the fuck?"

He pounded his fists onto the console in irritation, smashing random buttons in the process.

Something flickered behind him. He groaned, not bothering to turn around.

"This is Emergency Program Forty-two." 

His hearts stuttered then twisted in agony. He knew that voice. But...but it wasn't possible. He spun around.

A blond figure stood only three feet from where he was. He examined her feet, working his way up, not daring to hope. Boots, black fitted trousers, a cotton purple t shirt under a dark blue leather jacket. Hoop earrings and blonde hair just past the shoulders framed her face. 

Her face. His breath caught in his throat. It was just as beautiful as he remembered. Full lips and honey colored eyes that stared into his very soul.

"Rose." His voice was thick, unshed tears stung his eyes.

A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. She flickered. A hologram. Of course. His shoulders slumped as he rested his weight against the console behind him.

"Doctor." 

He collapsed onto the floor. He gasped for air. Anything but this.

A star whale. The unexplained exploding TARDIS. Faking his death. Hitler. The Crimson Horror. The Dalek Asylum.

"What the fuck? There's no fucking dalek fucking asylum!" He pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes.

"Doctor."

He dropped his hands, defeated. "Rose. Why...what..." He didn't know where to start. He didn't know what was happening to him.

"If this program has activated, something has gone wrong. Something has damaged my circuits."

"Circuits? But Rose...you're human."

Rose, no, the image of Rose, rolled her eyes.

"I'm not Rose. I'm a voice interface. And if this program has activated, I have chosen Rose Tyler for a reason."

"And what fucking reason would that be?"

The image smiled sadly. He wanted to die. It was so like her. The TARDIS had done more than use her voice and her image, it had copied her mannerisms and personality as well.

"Because I know you will listen to me."

The Doctor banged his head back against the console. Well, she had that right. He could never refuse or ignore Rose Tyler.

Dinosaurs on a spaceship. Gangers. An aborted timeline. Weddings. River Song.

He clutched his chest. He had met her once before. He knew that for certain. But the rest of this? What was happening? And why would he marry her, a woman he hardly knew if he couldn't ever admit to Rose that he loved her. 

"Please...tell me..."

Rose's face softened.

"It's alright, Doctor. It's not real."

"The what the f-" He drew in a breath. Even if this was just the TARDIS's voice interface, Rose didn't deserve to be spoken to in such a manner.

He tried again.

"If it's not real, why does it feel real? What's happening to me?"

"Your regeneration was more powerful than I anticipated. The energy and emotions destroyed the console room. I caught fire, I was burning and exploding just as you were. But it was more than that."

It was almost unnerving, hearing Rose speak as if she were the TARDIS. Which, in a way this Rose was. It reminded him of the game station. He shivered.

"You destroyed not only the interior, but several of my functioning systems as well. I was trying to soothe you, crash land, put out fires, redecorate, and fix systems all at once. I may be magnificent, but with a regenerating emotionally distraught Time Lord on board a burning Time Ship, there's only so much I can do."

He arched an eyebrow, saddened to find it not quite as expressive as in his previous body.

"What does that mean?"

Rose crossed her arms, exhaling roughly.

"It means, I did what I could but some of my...hmm...wires, you could say, got crossed. Doesn't matter now, I've nearly fixed it."

"What does that have to do with my almost memories?"

"As a Time Lord, you have an innate ability to sense possible time lines. As a Time Machine, ugh such a horrid word...anyway. I not only sense them, I know the outcome of each and every one. During the catastrophe, your mind was open and vulnerable. You must have latched on to one of the time lines and followed it while you were in your healing coma."

The pieces slid into place. He scratched his chin.

"So that's why it feels more like a memory and less like a dream?"

"Yes."

"What about that body? That regeneration, did I skip over it or...?"

"As I said, you latched on to one possible outcome. One among millions. You may see that version of you later, you may not."

Rose gave him a tongue touched smile. His hearts skipped several beats and he almost forgot how to breath.

"Time will tell, Doctor."

He groaned.

"Did you have to?"

The image flickered as Rose giggled.

With a sigh, he got to his feet. He walked closer, slowly beginning to raise a hand.

"Can I...?" His voice was soft and embarrassingly hopeful.

Rose shook her head.

"I'm still just an image. No touch."

He flinched at the familiar words. The pain in his chest threatening to burst wide and overwhelm him.

"You will still have flashes of almost memories from that timeline, even though it didn't actually happen. They should fade over time."

He nodded numbly, then stared at a point just over her shoulder.

"Doctor."

He brought his eyes back to hers.

"Yes, Rose."

"Do one thing for me. Just one thing."

He would have given up all his lives for her, whether she asked it of him or not.

"Anything."

"Have a good life. Do that for me, Doctor. Have a fantastic life."

Her smile was warm and tender. The Doctor thought he would break from the sudden assault of emotions. My how the tables had turned. He nodded.

The image began to fade.

"Rose."

He barely choked out her name.

"Yes, Doctor?"

He clenched and unclenched his fists. He knew this wasn't real. Knew this was more TARDIS than Rose. But he didn't care. He had to say it.

"I love you."

Rose's face lit up, giving him another patented Rose Tyler tongue in teeth smile.

"Quite right, too."

The image cut out.

The Doctor was left staring at empty space. A single tear rolled down his cheek.

This had played out so similar to the first time he had left her on Bad Wolf Bay. But this time, a weight had been lifted off his chest. He wouldn't spiral downward into darkness like he had done twice before. 

He had promised Rose he would live a fantastic life. He couldn't deny her that. He would go on, doing his best, in her memory. Rose Tyler would always hold the dearest of places in his hearts. He wouldn't do her memory any honor, if he repeated his previous behavior. 

He would get it right this time. And when people asked why he did what he did, why he lived his life on the run, risking his neck for planets and species that didn't know his name, he would proudly tell them of the human girl. Well, woman now. He would tell them of Rose Tyler, and how she had made him better.

Head held high, he went in search of the wardrobe. New start, new clothes. New, new, new Doctor.


End file.
